


Spells, Bells, and a Lot of Barking

by GuenVanHelsing



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Excessively drool-y dogs, Magical Knitting, Post-Canon, There's a puppy, Witches, also a wee bit of angst, as u can see it is Not, did i mention there's a puppy, it's sort of very soft drummerwolf tbh, martin is an emotional mess TM, shameless Douglas Adams references, this was supposed to be a shORT LITTLE FIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing
Summary: Amanda's quiet afternoon at the agency is interrupted by the hasty return of the Rowdy 3, only one of them is now... a puppy?





	Spells, Bells, and a Lot of Barking

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could not have been completed without the assistance of the wonderful [@setmeatopthepyre](https://setmeatopthepyre.tumblr.com/) ❤❤❤ Thank u for being my writing buddy ily
> 
> Prompt 6 - Witches

Amanda Brotzman loved her brother. 

He had made mistakes, and sometimes he could be a total twat, but he was doing his best to make amends, and Dirk seemed to think the sun shone out of his ass, so he had to be doing  _ something _ right. And Amanda  _ liked  _ Dirk, he was fun, and so was Farah — when she wasn’t making impromptu trips to the store that ended up in her being lost in IKEA for two hours and still wasn’t back — and Amanda liked visiting the agency to see them. 

But she missed her Rowdies, dammit. 

They had dropped her off at the agency and taken off — Amanda had wanted them to  _ stay, _ but Dirk and Todd (and Farah) were all less than excited about having five human-shaped wrecking balls loose in their offices — and it had been two hours with no Rowdies and no Farah, and Amanda sitting on the sofa with her head thrown back, counting the cracks in the ceiling and watching a bug that  _ might _ be Mona crawling in looping figure eights. 

Everything was so  _ quiet _ without five other people crammed into her personal space, playing with her hand or yanking on her jacket sleeve or clambering onto her lap so they could stick their head out the window. 

And Amanda loved her brother, but she’d used up all her patience for him an hour ago when he’d burned the frozen pizza he’d thrown in the oven for them. Now he was busy in the kitchen, whipping up  _ something, _ and Dirk was describing in great detail one of their latest cases. 

“...and there’s a bit about a bunny, do you remember the bunny, Todd?” said Dirk, then frowned, sitting up abruptly in his seat, hands gripping the armrests. “Do you hear that?” 

Amanda lifted her head from the sofa. “Hear what?” she said, and then she heard it — the rumble that always sank into her bones like drinking hot chocolate on a crisp autumn night, the odd beat of techno music mixed with the growl of an engine — and leapt to her feet. “They’re back early!” 

Martin had promised her an afternoon with her brother, and sometimes it was annoying how seriously he took promises. They’d had a whole conversation on what constituted an ‘afternoon,’ since Vogel and Cross had two different ideas about that, and Gripps had kindly ended the argument before it got further than Cross getting Vogel in a headlock and messing up his hair as Vogel shrieked and tried to step on his feet in retaliation. 

_ Evening is after dinner, so after dinner is what it is. _

Amanda had hoped the Rowdies would go eat and come back, claiming it was after dinner — for them — and therefore time to go, but she hadn’t been so lucky. 

But there was the van, as she stood by the window, her nose pressed to the glass, and Dirk sighed, joining her. “They’re  _ back,” _ he said, with much less enthusiasm than she, and there was a groan from the kitchen a few seconds before Todd joined them. 

The van careened across the street and knocked over the mailbox, and both Dirk and Todd sighed in unison, and Amanda frowned. She knew Martin wasn’t the  _ safest _ of drivers, not in the traditional sense, and he was apt to ignore traffic laws if it suited him, but there was his style of erratic driving and then there was  _ erratic driving, _ and this wasn’t like him at all — the van’s wheels spun for a moment, the mailbox tilting further at an angle under one of the tires, the lights flashing before turning off, and that bad feeling curled in her stomach like a badly mixed cocktail. 

“Something’s wrong,” she said, and ran for the door, Dirk and Todd at her heels. She wished Farah hadn’t gone to the store, because Farah was a tank in a tank top and Amanda could’ve used the moral support of the other woman’s unwavering preparedness. “Boys!” she called, leaping down the stairs two at a time and racing to meet them on the sidewalk as the van doors creaked open.

The Rowdies piled out of the van. Beast leapt from the passenger seat with a mournful howl, and Gripps emerged from the back. Amanda could see Cross in the driver’s seat, patting the steering wheel before clambering out, and her concern rose to choking levels. 

Cross never drove. He’d much rather sit in the back and howl along to the music with the others than pay attention of what was happening outside the van, like stop signs or traffic lights or unsuspecting pedestrians — or innocent mailboxes.

Vogel crawled out of the back, lugging something in his arms, and Gripps closed the doors after him with a  _ slam. _ “Boss,  _ Boss,” _ called Vogel, and Amanda ran to him, skidding to a halt as the four Rowdies surrounded her and stared at what Vogel was holding. 

It was the fluffiest, roundest puppy she had ever  _ seen. _

But where the hell was— 

“Martin got turned into a  _ puppy!” _ howled Vogel, and there were tears in his eyes as the other Rowdies picked up the mournful rumble. The puppy was drooling, tongue lolling out of his smiling mouth, and barked a greeting, tail thumping lightly against Vogel’s leg. “Boss, what’re we gonna  _ do?” _

Amanda stared for a moment, and the puppy barked, a little  _ woof _ that shook his entire fluffy body. “Holy  _ shit,” _ she said, and patted the puppy’s head, earning herself a slobbery lick and likely a friend for life. The puppy’s eyes were ice blue, just like Martin’s, and she searched each of the Rowdies’ faces — all of them were looking at her, hopeful, as if she could change Martin back to his regular emotion vampire self with a snap of her fingers. 

“You  _ can  _ change him back, yeah?” said Cross, as if he could read her mind, looking at her with eyes full of hope. “With your witchakookoo stuff?” he added, and wiggled his fingers dramatically. 

Amanda stared at him, then back at the puppy, who had a long line of drool dribbling from his mouth that was almost the length of Vogel’s leg. 

Gross. 

It was a stupidly cute dog, but.

_ Gross. _

“I dunno, guys,” she said, and patted the puppy’s head — its fur was so  _ soft, _ all thick and fluffy — and the Rowdies huddled around her, their anxiety almost tangible. It didn’t feel right that Martin wasn’t there at her side, unshakeable. “That isn’t— I’ve never done something like that.” 

And anyway, her powers didn’t work the same as they had in Wendimoor. She still had visions, sometimes, but she couldn’t make things real anymore, couldn’t pull things from nothing. Not from lack of trying, either, but it seemed those special abilities were only usable in certain places. 

Which was stupid and  _ useless, _ when she really could use some help. Some nice, albeit a little painful, but conveniently  _ magical _ help. 

There wasn’t much else magical she could turn to, since she hadn’t had much practice using the wand — it unnerved the Rowdies, and unnerved  _ her _ a little, if she was being honest, and she had stopped messing with it for a while just in the hopes that letting it be would give her time to figure out how it  _ worked. _

Which wasn’t much help now. 

“Tell me what happened,” she said, and they all started talking at once, interspersed with occasional yips from the puppy, who was wiggling his paws and clearly wanted to get down and meet all the other people. Amanda clapped her hands, and they quieted, and the puppy barked. “Cross,” she said, and his dark eyes widened. 

“Why you asking me?” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him — he let out a huff. “We just stopped for snacks, that’s all! And the lady was a  _ witch!” _ He paused, then added, “Not a witchakookoo witch, or a bad witch lady witch. A  _ witch.” _

As if that explained much of anything, but it was a start. 

“Gripps,” said Amanda, and the Rowdy tugged on his beanie. 

“Jerky and chocolate,” he said. “And marshmallows, we got marshmallows. Rainbow hadn’t tried them yet.” Amanda glanced at Beast, who was cooing at the puppy and giggling whenever he licked her face. “The witch-lady took the money.” 

“Vogel,” said Amanda, when Gripps looked away, clearly finished, and the youngest Rowdy startled, nearly dropping the puppy, who squirmed in his arms until he reluctantly set the wriggling thing on his paws on the ground. The puppy immediately piddled, and all of them took a healthy step back, except for Beast, who just laughed and crouched down so the puppy could crawl onto her lap. 

“We smashed a mailbox,” said Vogel, “and all the letters flew out—” 

_ “Whoosh!” _ said Cross, raising his arms in swooping motions to illustrate it. 

“—and we got in the van, and Martin wasn’t there,” continued Vogel, and the others nodded, eerily in sync. “No Boss, just a puppy. And we found you!” 

“Good boys,” said Amanda, and they beamed at her. They were safe, at least, and unhurt, and they would figure out what had happened to Martin together. 

“Um, Manda,” said Todd, and she jumped, having forgotten, sorta, that her brother and Dirk were standing behind her, and she glanced at him — he looked nervous, but that could just be because of the Rowdies’ presence. “You haven’t had any…” He made a wobbly motion with his hand, and she laughed. 

“No, no visions,” she said. Especially not about one of her beloved Rowdies getting cursed into a  _ dog. _ She squinted at Dirk, who was being uncharacteristically silent, his brow furrowed as he regarded the puppy drooling on Beast’s jeans. “Dirk?” 

“You don’t think he’s a shapeshifter now, do you?” he said, and Amanda blinked. “God, could you  _ imagine, _ Todd?” 

“I don’t  _ want _ to, thanks,” said Todd, and shuddered. “Mona as a  _ Rowdy, _ Dirk.” 

“Oh, dear,” said Dirk, and paled, and Amanda cleared her throat, all eyes snapping to hers, with the exceptions of Gripps and Beast, who were crouched on the ground and cooing over the puppy, who had rolled onto his back and had his tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail thumping on the ground. 

“Where exactly is the witch?” she said, and the Rowdies exchanged glances. “You  _ do _ remember where it was, right?” she said, and Cross shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“Maybe yes, maybe no?” he said, and elbowed Vogel. “You remember, right?” 

Vogel shifted from foot to foot, then shrugged. “Big gas station, lots of lights,” he said. “Ain’t different from any others—  _ wait. _ There were  _ cows.” _

“Cows!” yelled Cross, and Dirk and Todd jumped, startled. “There were so many cows, I know where it is, I know where it is!” 

“I’ll drive,” said Amanda, and bolted for the driver’s side door, Cross close on her heels. They were piled in after only a matter of seconds, and Amanda leaned out the window. “You coming?” she said. 

Dirk and Todd glanced at each other, then at her. “Um,” said Todd, and Amanda had to laugh at the look on his face — there was no love lost between her brothers and the Rowdies. “We should—” 

“—drive with  _ Farah,” _ said Dirk, just as a jeep pulled up next to the sidewalk. “We’ll follow you!” 

“Cool,” said Amanda, and ducked back into the van, elbowing Vogel off of her seat and shifting the van into drive. It rumbled under her, the growl almost angry, the puppy howling along in the back as Beast giggled maniacally, and Amanda stomped on the gas pedal

She wanted Martin back. 

 

—

 

Martin paid for his pack of cigarettes, avoiding the glittery dark eyes of the woman behind the counter, and tapped out a cigarette as he stepped out the door, digging out his lighter, and froze, the cigarette nearly falling from his open mouth. 

The van was gone. 

The van was  _ gone, _ and more importantly, so were his  _ Rowdies. _

He took a deep breath, lit his cigarette, and tried not to panic. Maybe they’d just moved the van — it wouldn’t be the first time Gripps had decided they needed a better parking space, one with more  _ sun. _

So Martin wandered around the parking lot, and along the fence of the nearby farm, until the gentle mooing of the cows chased him back to the gas station. 

Where there was no van. 

No Rowdies. 

Martin was  _ alone. _

“Don’t,” he said quietly to himself, “panic.” He took another deep breath and breathed out a stream of smoke.  _ Don’t panic. _

Don’t  _ panic. _

Blackwing couldn’t have found them — Martin would’ve smelled ‘em long before they got close, and he couldn’t smell them  _ now. _ There was no smell of blood, either, so they hadn’t been hurt, and he could even see skid marks on the pavement near where the van had been parked, and the smashed remnants of a mailbox, letters scattered everywhere, and a lone newsprint flyer fluttering across the tarmac under the behest of the wind.

They’d left in a hurry. 

They’d also left without  _ him. _

“Young man,” said a withered, thin voice, and Martin jumped, dropping the butt of the nearly-finished cigarette and stepping on it out of instinct. “Would you like a cup of tea?” said the old woman from the checkout counter, perfectly calmly, as if Martin hadn’t near jumped out of his skin. 

They were in the middle of an empty parking lot, and he hadn’t heard her sneak up on him. 

Hell, maybe Blackwing  _ had _ taken them — and how could he tell, if he couldn’t even— 

“A nice pot of chamomile, perhaps,” the old woman continued, and patted his arm. She was so  _ short, _ shorter even than Drummer, and her hand was very warm. “Come inside, dear, we’ll have some tea.” 

Martin followed her back into the gas station, because he had nowhere else to go. 

“The pot’s already on, let me bring you a cup,” said the woman, and Martin waited, turning the spinning rack of postcards and keychains just for something to do. He wanted another smoke, but he was already inside, and walking about again so soon would probably be considered rude. 

Not that he normally cared, but she had offered him tea, and Amanda had had a lot of long conversations to the Rowdies about how to be nice to people who were nice to them, and Martin was  _ trying, _ dammit. 

He missed Amanda. 

“Here’s your tea, dear,” said the old woman, and Martin took the cup she offered him — porcelain and old, set on a thin saucer that he half expected to break just from being in his hand. The tea was too hot, but he took a sip anyway, tasting the sugar she had added without being asked. 

Just the right amount. 

“Don’t mind me,” said the woman, and pulled an enormous skein of yarn in a basket from under the counter, lifting out a pair of wickedly pointed knitting needles with an uneven, soft knit  _ something _ already begun. “It’s generally very quiet out here, until the farmers finish in their fields. They’ll be around to pick up a few essentials soon enough.” 

Martin sipped his tea, balancing the saucer carefully, glancing out the large windows every few seconds. He hadn’t been so far away from his family in… fuck, he couldn’t remember when. Even when Blackwing had captured him and Gripps and Cross, they’d still been  _ together _ enough to hear each other’s voices, and he hadn’t been  _ alone. _ Not like this, not since the early days of testing and experiments and  _ torture— _

“Drink your tea, dear,” said the old woman, and Martin jerked his gaze up from the floor, the cup rattling on the saucer as he tried to still his shaking hands. “While it’s still hot.”

Martin leaned his hip against the counter and took another sip. The tea had cooled past scorching hot to drinkable, so he took another sip, and frowned, glancing at the old woman, whose own cup was balanced by the register, steam curling from the surface. Her hands were occupied by her knitting needles, which flashed under the fluorescent lights — she was very fast, and the light caught on something shiny in the yarn, something he couldn’t quite focus enough on to figure out. 

Martin set his boot against the baseboard of the counter and hopped up, sitting on the bare space between the register and the little display of lottery tickets. He checked that he hadn’t spilled any tea before glancing at the woman again, but she was concentrating on her knitting, muttering under her breath something about knits and pearls, and Martin glanced at the front windows again. 

No van. No Rowdies. Not even a farmer in a pickup truck, many of which they had passed while driving there in the first place. Martin sipped his tea, shoulders hunched, and tried not to panic. 

They were probably perfectly fine. They were strong, all of them, and they could look after each other — Martin had spent enough years on the run with them to grind a few useful bits of survival strategies into their heads that they would be fine should anything happen to him. They would be okay on their own. 

But would Martin? 

—

 

“That’s a lot of cows,” said Amanda as they passed by a field, in which there  _ were _ a lot of cows. She’d said it mainly to quiet the smattering of  _ cows! cows! cows! _ that rose habitually from the back every time Cross piped up that there were cows. And there were a lot of cows, and she could understand the excitement, since  _ cows, _ but also she was getting a headache, and her hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and she didn’t want to be driving anymore. 

She wanted Martin back. Puppy-Martin was cute, and drooled a lot more than Rowdy-Martin, and had the same soulful eyes, but Amanda wanted  _ her _ Martin back. The one who held her hand while they drove and let her sleep curled up at his side every night and who was always right by her side, no matter what.  _ Her _ Martin, who always seemed to know when she needed an emotional pick-me-up rather than be an emotional snack, who let her keep the radio station on whatever sappy love song she wanted to, and always gave her the last Twizzler in the packet. 

_ “There,” _ yelled Cross, and Amanda slammed on the brakes, spinning the wheel and pouring on the gas again to follow the direction of his pointing hand, gesturing emphatically at the windshield, and some idiot in a little red car blared their horn as they zoomed past. “There, there, with the revolving cow, I  _ knew _ there were cows, didn’t I say so—” 

“That’s it, that’s it!” howled Vogel, shoving the dangling chains aside so he could pop up between them, and he nearly fell into Cross’s lap as Amanda spun the van into the parking lot, past the sad shambles of a fallen mailbox that she had a feeling had been the precise one Vogel had told her about, and the puppy barked madly in the back of the van. 

Farah’s jeep pulled in beside them just as they were all piling out, and Amanda grinned as Puppy-Martin raced from the van and threw himself against her legs, his entire rear end wiggling with the speed of his wagging tail, barking and drooling, and Farah stared at Amanda helplessly as the puppy applied a fine layer of shedded fur onto her pants. “You weren’t kidding,” she said drily, and Dirk made an affronted noise as she crouched down to let the puppy sniff her hand. “He really  _ is _ cute.” 

“This is the place, this is— holy shit!” said Cross, and Amanda lifted her head as shrieks rose from the Rowdies, just in time to see the sun catching on the glass door of the gas station as it opened, right before a familiar white-haired man barrelled across the parking lot toward them. 

_ “Martin!” _ Amanda felt all the breath leave her lungs as the blonde Rowdy scooped her up in a hug and spun her around, her hands gripping the back of his vest and clinging for dear life as a warm body smooshed her into Martin from behind, and other arms wrapped around her, all of their voices rising at once. “You’re okay,” she whispered, and she wasn’t sure if he heard her, not over the howls of the other Rowdies, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“Where’s your fur, man?” said Cross, Amanda finally picking his voice out from the rest of the noise, and Martin carefully set Amanda back on her feet, although his hands stayed on her shoulders. 

“My  _ what?” _ said Martin, and Vogel hefted the puppy up into his arms, holding the wriggling mass of fur and paws and drooling mouth up for Martin to see.  _ “What?” _ said Martin again, and Amanda laughed, unable to uncurl her fingers from the front of his jacket. 

“Your fur!” said Cross. “You were a dog! But you weren’t!”

“He’s got your eyes,” said Gripps. 

“He looks just like you!” said Cross. 

“Ees okay!” howled Beast, looking from the puppy to Martin and back again, her long hair sticking to Gripps’ jacket. “Ees not floofer enymore!” 

“Thought you were a  _ goner, _ man!” said Vogel, and wrapped his arms around Martin again, pressing his face against Martin’s vest. “Fluffball nutso goner!” 

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere,” said Martin, patting Vogel’s back. “A  _ dog?  _ Where’d you—  _ Why _ were you thinkin’ I was a dog?  _ That _ dog?” he added, gesturing at the puppy, and swearing when the puppy leapt up and licked his hand, leaving a slimy trail in its path.  _ “Jesus.” _

“He was driving!” said Cross. 

“Puppies can’t  _ drive,” _ said Todd, a little quietly, as if he was hoping he wouldn’t be heard, and Amanda raised an eyebrow at him — he just shrugged. 

“Glad you’re not a dog,” said Vogel. 

“Where,” said Martin, “did you  _ get _ a dog?” 

“Told you,” said Cross with a sniff. “He was  _ driving, _ man.” 

Gripps smacked him in the arm, and he stumbled with a yelp. “Van was  _ parked, _ Cross!” 

“Paws on wheels, man!” said Cross, and rugby-tackled him to the ground. Amanda laughed, happy to see them as themselves again, and smiled a different smile, a softer smile, when Martin tangled his fingers with hers. 

“You okay?” she said, and he squeezed her hand gently. 

“Are you?” he said, and she bumped her shoulder against his arm. 

“I am now,” she said, and he ruffled her hair, laughing when she swore at him and ducked. 

Amanda didn’t let go of his hand, though. 

She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to again. 

“So, what are your plans for this… puppy?” said Dirk, as said puppy spread his considerable jaws and placed them gently around Dirk’s shoe — a slow trickle of drool dripped down the side, and he made a face. “It must belong to  _ some _ body.” 

“Could belong to  _ us,” _ said Vogel hopefully, and Amanda had visions of them squeezed into the van with a gigantic, shedding, drooling dog. 

She could already smell the wet dog smell on rainy days. 

She could practically taste the dog hair getting into everything she ever ate. 

“Ain’t a wild one,” said Cross. 

“Witch’s familiar,” said Gripps. 

“Could be a stray?” said Martin, but he sounded doubtful even as he said it. “Maybe th’ lady inside knows who it belongs to.” 

“The lady?” said Gripps. 

“The  _ witch,” _ said Vogel, and Martin shrugged. 

“She made tea,” he said, and the Rowdies jostled close again as he hauled the puppy up under his arm — the string of drool from the puppy’s mouth attached to Dirk’s shoe stretched far longer than Amanda ever wanted to see saliva stretch —  and headed for the gas station. Amanda followed, because he was still holding her hand, and the puppy’s tail was swatting her leg with every step. 

Stupidly cute thing. 

She was so glad it wasn’t Martin. 

_ “There _ you are,” said the old woman behind the counter as they stepped into the gas station. “You didn’t finish your tea, young man.” 

“Leaf stories,” whispered Cross to Gripps, who nodded seriously. 

“Got a question for ya,” said Martin, and hefted the puppy up against his chest, grimacing when it licked his face with enough enthusiasm to knock his glasses askew. “This yours?” 

The old woman set down her cup of tea and regarded the squirming mass of fur. “What an adorable puppy,” she said brightly. “But no, he is not mine.” 

“Showed up in your lot,” said Martin, and casually stepped on Cross’s foot to get him to stop whispering as the noise continued to grow. “Figured y’might know whose he is.” 

“Sorry, dear,” said the old woman. “That isn’t the kind of dog anyone in town would have.” She smiled, and pointed at the sign on the wall that clearly stated  _ only service dogs allowed. _ Martin stared at it blankly, then looked to Amanda, who grinned weakly. 

“We’ll make sure he finds a safe home,” said Amanda, and the old woman smiled. 

“I’m certain you will,” she said, and set down her knitting needles, no longer entangled in yarn. She held out a a shapeless lump of knitted material, and Amanda accepted it when Martin cast her a glance, his hands already occupied with a puppy, and most importantly,  _ her _ hand. “This is for you, dear.” 

Amanda didn’t ask why the woman thought she needed a very large, very  _ soft _ lump of knitted  _ something. _ She just smiled and let it ooze over her hands in a very sinuous way that was a little at odds with the chunky knit. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, dear.” The bell on the door rang, the puppy  _ woof _ ed, and Amanda backed away from the counter. “Enjoy the rest of your day! Hello, how can I help you?” she said, turning to the newcomer, and Amanda kept backing up until she backed right into Cross, tugging Martin along with her. The lady at the desk was distracted by the customer, and this was their time to escape. 

It only occurred to her after they were safely in the parking lot that she didn’t know  _ why _ it had been an  _ escape, _ just that they had briefly stared something very dangerous in the eye and slipped through the clutch of its fingers. 

Amanda was clutching  _ Martin’s _ fingers, rather tightly, and she loosened her grip a little as he crouched to deposit the puppy back on his paws, but didn’t let go. He looked up at her, still low to the ground, his other hand resting on the puppy’s excitedly wriggling back, and he squeezed her hand gently. 

“Well, I’m very glad everything worked out in the end,” said Dirk, eyeing Beast warily, but she seemed more preoccupied with cooing over the puppy than pouncing on him, for once. “Glad to see you’re not a— puppy.” He paused, visibly forcing a friendly approximation of a smile, and Martin rose to his feet, not bothering to brush the dirt from the knees of his jeans. Dirk held the smile, though, and Amanda was very proud of him for not jumping when Cross clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Got your teapot?” said Cross, and bounced past him to heckle Vogel, who had somehow procured a dog’s leash from somewhere. “Necklaces and pendants, Vogel! That’s no good without it!” 

“Same time next week?” said Todd, and by the smile tugging at his lips Amanda could tell he was only sort of joking. Their visit  _ had _ gotten rather derailed. “Maybe a little less… eventful?” 

“I dunno, I think you guys could use some eventful,” said Amanda, bumping her shoulder against her brother’s when he scoffed. “Got any plans for Thanksgiving?” 

Todd’s eyes widened, glancing at the Rowdies, who were wrestling with the puppy — and each other — on the tarmac. Amanda was pretty sure she saw some biting going on, and she sighed. “Uh, everyone? For Thanksgiving?” 

“I’m pretty sure they could eat a turkey or two,” said Amanda, and grinned. “Hey, remember the food fight of ‘08?” Todd groaned, and she laughed. “These guys could put us to shame before the appetizers are done.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Todd, then sighed as Dirk was dragged into the fray with a yelp by the helping hands of Gripps and Beast. “But hey, that’s what family is for, right? Driving you crazy and mashed potato catapults?” 

Amanda hugged him. “We’ll see you in a few weeks, then,” she said. 

“What, leaving already?” 

Amanda smiled. “It’s Halloween!” she said. “We’ve got some spooking to do.” 

_ “Shit,” _ said Todd. “Dirk!” he yelled, and the detective’s head popped up from the tangled mess of limbs and coat sleeves, jerking his head to the side to avoid getting whacked in the face by a certain puppy’s tail. “Dirk, we gotta go, we still gotta decorate!” 

“You haven’t  _ decorated?” _ said Farah, grabbing the back of Todd’s jacket before he could march off. “Todd, that was— the whole  _ point _ of me going to the store! To get the last few things! So we would be done! And you and Dirk and Amanda were supposed to be  _ finished!”  _

“Oops,” said Amanda, because she’d been the one to accidentally egg Dirk on into extrapolating on some of the finer details of the agency’s latest cases, and completely forgotten about her duties as assistant decorator. Todd was walking resolutely onward, Farah still hanging onto the back of his jacket, and even the Rowdies had enough sense to clear a path for Farah as she waded in to haul Dirk to his feet. 

“Apparently,” said Dirk, as he extracted himself gently from Beast’s embrace, “the agency is  _ perfectly _ located on a  _ very _ busy street with  _ many _ family homes nearby, and we somehow got volunteered as providing a trick-or-treating spot for the evening, and—” 

“—and we are going to be  _ late,”  _ said Farah. “Amanda, lovely to see you, as always, and glad to see that your friend is not, uh, actually a puppy, and are you  _ sure _ you don’t want to hand out candy to children?” 

“Maybe we’ll swing by later and see how the evening goes,” said Amanda, but she made no promises, because she could feel the swell of jittery energy gathering in her Rowdies, ready to be out on the road. They wanted to be on the move —  _ needed _ to be on the move — and she felt it, too, that drive to keep moving, that the universe wasn’t ready for them to rest yet. 

She didn’t know if it every would be. 

But as long as she had her boys, she could take whatever the universe pitched at them. 

Even if what the universe decided was dropping a very large puppy into their laps. 

“Can we keep him?” said Vogel, and all the Rowdies looked to Amanda, clearly waiting for her approval, and she looked at the puppy, who thumped his tail on the ground and smiled doggily up at her. 

He was  _ really _ fucking cute. 

_ “Where _ are you going to keep him?” said Todd, glancing at the van with an expression of poorly disguised trepidation, and that solidified Amanda’s answer. 

“If we’re gonna keep him,” she began, and Vogel cheered, “then he’s gonna need a name.” 

“No spots, no filter!” said Cross. 

“Peanut butter baby,” said Gripps. 

“We are  _ not _ naming him Spot,” said Amanda. 

“God, do you remember Spot?” said Todd. 

“Fat little bastard always chewed up my socks,” said Amanda. 

“Rover,” said Martin, and Amanda resisted the urge to kick him in the shin at his smirk. 

The puppy flopped to the ground and rolled over, sitting up in a scramble of limbs with the same mad grin, and they all started at him. 

“Roll over?” said Martin, and the puppy did it again, tail wagging so fast that his entire back end was wiggling, little bits of dirt and leaves sticking out of his fur. 

“Fluffy,” said Gripps. 

“Nuts,” said Vogel. 

Cross snapped his fingers, pointing dramatically at the puppy. “Fluffernutter!” 

“That’s a good one,” said Martin, to a chorus of  _ yeah, good one, that’s a real toffee keeper. _

“Fluffernutter it is,” said Amanda. The puppy barked, and Vogel scooped him up, laughing delightedly as the puppy bestowed many lavish licks on his face. “Fluffernutter’s gonna need a collar.” 

“And shots,” said Todd. 

“Got a bed,” said Amanda with a grin, holding up the soft knitted thing. It was plenty big, and it  _ felt _ like a dog bed, in the way the puppy felt like a Fluffernutter. Soft as whipped marshmallows, if she was feeling poetic, and also sort of accurate — the puppy’s fur  _ was  _ ridiculously soft. 

“No more leash,” said Vogel mournfully, as the leash he’d had coiled over his arm dropped to the ground in a looping coil to avoid the flailing puppy paws. The leash hissed, and slithered over to Dirk, leaping up into his arms as a bunny, and the puppy renewed his wiggling, nose twitching in interest. 

Martin whistled, and the Rowdies ambled toward the van, Cross and Gripps debating the best treats for dogs — Amanda grimaced as she tried to even imagine how much dog food they would need for a puppy that size — and Beast picking stray leaves from the puppy’s fur as Vogel lugged the puppy along. 

“See you,” called Todd, and Amanda blew the agency crew a kiss, hip-checking Cross out of the way so she could snag shotgun. Martin flashed a smile at her, climbing into the driver’s seat, and she flipped the sun visor down, angling the mirror so she could keep an eye on the back of the van, full of howling Rowdies and the soft  _ awoo _ of the puppy joining in on the fun. Martin cranked the key, and the van rumbled into wakefulness, the steady thump of the bass settling into her bones, and Amanda felt like she was  _ home. _

That’s what she loved, more than anything in the world. The Rowdies were her home. 

“Smell you later!” hollered Vogel, leaning over her and out the open window, and Amanda pressed herself back into the seat and grabbed his jacket before he could topple out, laughing and hanging on as Martin spun the van toward the road, Vogel waving wildly at the jeep and its occupants. Amanda caught a glimpse, under Vogel’s flapping jacket, of Todd shaking his head with a rueful grin, dutifully waving back, and Vogel fell back into the van, cackling and crashing through the chains to tackle Cross. 

Something orange and white ran across the road and Martin slammed on the brakes, the puppy barking excitedly and scrambling into the front, evading shouting Rowdies’ grasping hands and crawling partway onto Martin’s lap with the biggest  _ woof _ Amanda had heard the puppy make, and she could’ve  _ sworn _ she heard Todd say, “Oh, no, not again.” 

But that would be silly, wouldn’t it? 

The Rowdies were certainly noisy enough to drown him out. 

Amanda rested her arm on the window and leaned out, seeing Farah dropping her head against the jeep’s steering wheel as Dirk gesticulated wildly, and Todd bent down to pat the dusty, tail-wagging corgi that had run straight for him. Martin cursed as the puppy’s paws landed on a particularly tender spot, Fluffernutter still straining to reach the window, and Amanda grinned. 

Yeah. 

It was good to be home. 

 

THE END

 

....or is it? 

 

—

 

“Oh, there you are,” said the little old woman as the door squeaked shut behind her last customer, and the jackdaw swooped over the outgoing gentleman’s head to the land on the counter, fluttering his wings, perched atop the spinnable display of tacky keychains. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.” The jackdaw cawed, and she laughed. “Is that so? Serves that old fart right, leaving his gate unlocked. Any clever dog could escape in no time.” She smiled, holding out her hand, and the jackdaw hopped onto her wrist. “And that dog is very clever, indeed, to climb into their van.” 

The jackdaw tipped his head and cawed some more, and she nodded, rising from her chair and moving to flip the sign on the door to  _ Closed, _ not bothering to lock the door. Her wards were plenty strong to keep unwanted visitors out, and the jackdaw hopped from her wrist to her shoulder as she made her way into the back room. 

“What a lovely little family,” she cooed, setting her knitting needles back into the case laid out on the desk there. “I do hope Fluffernutter enjoys his bed.” She smiled at the jackdaw. “Just a few luck and health charms woven in, nothing too fancy. They didn’t seem like the sort who needed the elaborate.” The jackdaw cawed again, louder, and she laughed. “Of course I gave him calming tea, dear! Not that he drank much of it, of course, silly soul. He’s not the trusting sort, is he?” She shooed the jackdaw onto a little wooden perch, sweeping a dark shawl over her shoulders, and cracked her very old knuckles. “Well, then, let’s get started on that curse for the old fart. Already lost his future prize-winning puppy… perhaps a little haunting spell? ‘Tis the season, after all!” 

And the witch threw back her head and cackled. 

 

_ FINIS.  _

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone is interested, [this](http://awwww-cute.tumblr.com/post/64091720160/my-friends-chubby-puppy-likes-to-sit-like-this/) is the puppy in question
> 
> he round
> 
> he soft
> 
> this fic literally happened just bc i wanted to write about a puppy that floofy


End file.
